


More Than A Pinch

by inlovewithnight



Series: domestic kinksters [3]
Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BDSM, Chastity Cage, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-28
Updated: 2011-10-28
Packaged: 2017-10-25 00:43:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/269767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inlovewithnight/pseuds/inlovewithnight





	More Than A Pinch

Pete comes in with a dog under each arm and stops behind the couch to kiss the top of Mikey's head. "Hi. I'm home."

"I see that."

"What's up?" Mikey holds his textbook up above his head in silent answer. "What for?"

"Recertification's next month."

"Oh. Shit."

"It doesn't really affect you, dude."

"It does too. You'll be all stressy and twitchy and mean."

"I'm never mean." The dogs are still under Pete's arms, just hanging out like footballs with limp little legs. "How do you get them to do that?"

"What?"

"The dogs. They're not even struggling."

"They love me." Pete kisses Mikey's head again and starts off toward the kitchen. "How much longer do you need to study?"

"Give me half an hour?"

"Cool. I'll heat something up for dinner."

Mikey goes back to studying until a plate settles onto the coffee table in front of him and a bottle of beer is slipped deftly between his legs. "Food, Mikeyway."

"You're very nice to me."

"I try." Pete sits down next to him and kisses his cheek, then takes the textbook away and sets it on the table. "Eat. Drink. Be merry. Watch football. Make out a little before bed. Worry about studying tomorrow."

Mikey takes a slow swallow of beer and studies Pete's face. "You're very bossy."

"If this is news to you, I have a lot of questions about our whole relationship."

Mikey makes a face at him and turns his attention to dinner, smiling to himself when Pete's arm slides around his waist. Questions about their relationship. Right.

**

Mikey tucks his chin, making a hollow between his face and the pillow so he can draw a deeper breath. Pete's heavy against his back, holding him down comfortably, his mouth moving slowly across Mikey's shoulders and the back of his neck. He keeps biting down just a little, just enough to make Mikey's breath hitch and his hips jerk against the mattress, but no more, not quite enough to _get_ to him.

"T-teasing me," Mikey mumbles, bucking up under him.

"Mm. Hold still." Pete nibbles to the base of his neck and then bites hard at last, hanging on while Mikey twists and gasps beneath him.

Mikey closes his eyes and rides the pain, sliding one hand down between his body and the mattress to curve his palm against his dick, not stroking but just _pressing_ , willing himself to keep his control for as long as Pete wants to hold on. He loves this, Pete teasing him and testing him, playing with his control in this kind of slow, focused way, not a whole scene but just a single moment of sharpness in a sleepy evening. He loves the way Pete knows his body and his nerves and his responses inside-out.

Pete lets go and places a kiss over the bite marks. "God, you're perfect."

"'m not." Mikey keeps his eyes closed, focusing on breathing in and out while Pete back a little and pulls the blanket up over them both.

"Shh." Another kiss, and Pete's arm around his waist again, keeping him warm and close. "Sleep."

"Mmm."

"I'm going to get you a present."

"What kind of a present?"

"Something to take your mind off recertifying."

"Need t' be able to concentrate."

"Trust me." Soft kisses down the side of his neck. "Just trust me."

Mikey nods and dozes off, thinking vaguely about what a silly thing that is for Pete to say.

**

Pete doesn't bring it up again, and Mikey kind of forgets, what with work and studying and cleaning up after the dogs and paying bills and the other minutia of life.

Two weeks after the present got mentioned, Mikey comes home and finds a box sitting in the middle of the living-room floor. It's plain brown cardboard with plain packing tape and a nondescript return address that he recognizes as the one Pete's favorite sex shop ships under. It's already been opened, the packing materials spilling out over the edges to the carpet. Super-subtle signal for Mikey to get himself back to the bedroom on the double.

The dogs are curled up in their cages with rawhide chews and barely even wag when Mikey checks in on them. All's right with the world, then, and he eagerly hurries down the hall to the bedroom, discarding his jacket on the floor as he goes.

Pete's sitting crosslegged on the bed, something in his hand that he tucks under the pillow as Mikey comes in. "Hey. How was your day?"

"It was good." Mikey raises an eyebrow at him and Pete just smiles back, leaning back on his hands. "What about you?"

"You know. Fine."

"You got something in the mail."

"I did."

"Is it my present?" Pete smirks at him, and Mikey gives a huff of frustration that's half a laugh. "Pete..."

Pete stands up, swinging his arms in a slow arc. "Bend over the bed."

So the present is something that involves bending over. That's the kind of thing Mikey likes to hear. He gets into position, bracing himself on his hands and looking back over his shoulder to watch Pete take off his belt and double it over.

"That's not my present," Mikey says, just to clarify. Pete's had that belt for years and being spanked with it isn't a present. It's more like...a Thursday.

"No." Pete's hands are deft, getting Mikey's pants off his hips and letting them slide down to his ankles, then guiding his briefs halfway down his thighs, leaving them as makeshift hobbles. "Count them off."

Pete smacks him fifteen times, and Mikey doesn't hesitate in counting. The heat and sting on his ass and thighs is good, exactly what he didn't even realize he needed after a long day. He rests his weight heavily on his hands, breathing through clenched teeth, and dimly hears the clink of the buckle hitting the floor just before Pete's hands grab his hips and flip him around.

He goes down on the bed hard, gasping as the tender skin hits the mattress. "Ow!"

"Good boy," Pete says, and Mikey lets his head fall back onto the bed, giving in to gravity and want and _Pete_ , the best boyfriend he can think of offhand, getting up on the bed to straddle him and slap him lightly across the face.

"Good boy," Pete says again, and slaps him again. Mikey moans, turning his head with the impact and hoping for more. Pete's jeans are open, his dick curved up over the waistband of his underwear, and Mikey spreads his knees wider apart, making room for Pete's body against his.

This is one of Pete's favorite ways to fuck, half-dressed and rubbing off against each other, hands fumbling between them, sweat and pre-come the only things breaking the friction. Mikey likes having Pete's face so close to his, being able to see the way he bites his lip and hear the rough little grunts he makes when he gets close. It's rough and intimate and kinda painful and usually leaves bruises behind, which is more than enough to make Mikey a fan, too.

Pete drags his fingers through their mingled come and brings them up to Mikey's mouth to suck clean. "Good?"

"Mmm. Awesome." Mikey closes his eyes and just feels his heartbeat shaking his body for a minute. "I still want a present, though."

Pete laughs and slaps him on the hip, then gets up and moves away from the bed. Mikey tracks him with his eyes closed, listening to the shuffle of his feet, the click of the bathroom door opening, the sound of the sink. "Don't worry, baby. I've got your present."

"That makes it sound like the present is your penis."

"Is that a problem?"

"No, but I still want to know what was in the box."

"Fuck." Pete's laugh is closer again, and Mikey opens his eyes, smiling up at Pete and then hissing as a wet washcloth wraps loosely around his dick. "You're a brat."

"I'm curious."

Pete wipes him clean and tosses the washcloth away, then stands looking down at Mikey for a long moment, eyes searching his face intently. "You can tell me no, okay? It's...I mean, it's an idea I've been wanting to try, but it's just an idea, and if you don't want to, just tell me and we'll do something else."

"This actually isn't my first day in kinkland." Mikey sits up and grabs Pete's hand, pulling him down onto the bed with him. "I've been to this rodeo before."

"I would love to see you in a cowboy hat." Pete kisses him, fast and light, then reaches under the pillow and pulls something out. "Your present, brat boy."

It takes a minute for Mikey to identify it beyond a confusing jumble of plastic. Pete's brow furrows when he doesn't respond, and Mikey licks his lips, staring at the thing like a Magic Eye picture, willing it to snap into focus so he doesn't freak Pete out and end up spending an hour calming him down again or--

 _Oh_.

"You bought me a cock cage." He blinks and licks his lips again, reaching to take it from Pete's hand. "You bought me a cock cage and it's not even my birthday."

Pete laughs and shakes his head, running his hand down Mikey's thigh. "So you like it?"

"I love it. Why wouldn't I? This'll be awesome." He sticks his finger into the tube and wiggles it, imagining how it'll feel around his dick, restraining him, cutting him off. Metaphorically. Totally metaphorically.

"I hope I got the size right." Pete takes the cage in one hand and Mikey's dick in the other, getting the ring placed behind his balls and the soft length of his shaft settled into the tube. He hooks the padlock to hold the two parts together but doesn't lock it, just runs his fingers over the plastic and takes a shaky breath. "Wow."

"It fits," Mikey offers, trying to get Pete's attention, get him to look up.

"I guess I know your dick pretty well." Pete smiles, a quick flash of teeth, his eyes still fixed on Mikey's cock. "So, um. I was thinking...the rest of the week. Until Friday night. Is that okay?"

Mikey mentally runs through his week and doesn't think of anything that would make that awkward. "Yeah. And this is to take my mind off my exam?"

"Well, yeah. That." Pete leans in and kisses him, his tongue hot and deep in Mikey's mouth, and clicks the padlock closed almost like an afterthought. Mikey doesn't even really notice until Pete sits back again. "And how fucking hot this is going to be."

**

The next morning, Mikey blows Pete in the shower. That's not unusual. He blows Pete in the shower a lot. They have a really, really big shower. It's awesome. It should be celebrated accordingly.

Pete pulls back at the last instant and comes all over Mikey's neck and chest, which isn't unusual, either, and then helps Mikey up to his feet for kissing and rinsing off. And that's when Mikey feels the little click of realization that some things _are_ going to be different this week, because this is where Pete would usually pin him up against the wall and jerk him off, mumbling hot and dirty in his ear and kissing Mikey's moans away when he comes.

Today, Pete kisses him, bites him lightly on the shoulder, and turns the water off. He wraps his towel around his waist and is scrambling off to the bedroom to get dressed before Mikey's brain quite catches up with the rest of him and the fact that no, he is not going to get off this morning, or this afternoon, or any time at all until Friday night.

He runs his hand down over himself, feeling plastic and just hints of skin instead of the weight of his cock. He's not hard, of course; that's the whole idea, but he hadn't really realized what that _means_ until right now.

Pete took a part of him away. He has control over Mikey's body, his reactions, just one part but one that Mikey is suddenly very, very hyperaware of.

It's really fucking weird.

"Mikey, we're gonna be late," Pete calls from the bedroom.

"Yeah," Mikey says, grabbing his own towel and roughly drying his hair one-handed, the other one rubbing at the base of his dick. "Yeah, I know, I'll be right there."

**

If the point of this exercise was to take Mikey's mind off the exam, they definitely underestimated. He can't keep his mind on _anything_. The weight of the plastic is like having Pete's hand on him, all day, just a quiet reminder of his control and Mikey's obedience.

It's not bad. It's _definitely_ not bad. It's just really fucking distracting.

He gets home from work and paces restlessly around the apartment, unable to sit still. He takes the dogs for twice as long of a walk as they're used to, which pleases them at first and then pisses them off. Pete would probably carry them home, but Mikey doesn't, just tugs at their leashes and makes them power-walk the whole way back.

Pete's there when they get in, which makes Mikey a little shaky with relief. And that freaks him out again, because what the _fuck_ , he isn't needy and codependent. He doesn't require Pete's presence and attention at all times. He could totally be fine if Pete took off for a three-week rock-climbing trip in Moab with his weird survivalist friend, _which he has done in the past_ , so this is weird and unacceptable, the way he just immediately feels better, safer, more secure in the world as soon as he sees Pete's face.

"Hey." Pete kisses him and unhooks the leashes, slapping Mikey on the ass as he moves past him to hang them in the hall. "Man, you won't believe the shit Keith tried to pull at work today. I'm so sick of that asshole. I'm gonna file a complaint."

"Oh?"

"Yes." Pete stomps into the kitchen and Mikey follows. "Or maybe I'll just key his car. I haven't decided yet. You want to order in tonight? We have frozen lasagna, but I'm really not feeling it."

"Sure." Mikey shoves his hands in his pockets and leans against the counter, half-listening as Pete rattles through their options and then calls in their usual order. Paying attention feels like too much work. He's just kind of...drifting, off in his head somewhere, until Pete comes over and wraps his arms around him from behind, resting his head against his shoulder.

"You okay, Mikes?"

"Yeah. I'm fine."

"You're quiet."

"Little tired, I guess."

"Hmm." Pete nuzzles at his arm, then bites lightly. "How's your dick?"

Mikey huffs a soft laugh and shakes his head. "It's fine."

"Can I see it?"

Mikey looks at him out of the corner of his eye. "Can you _see_ it? You know what it looks like. You put the thing there."

"I know. I just..." Pete shrugs, hugging Mikey back against him more tightly. "I wanna see it."

Mikey bites his lip and leans back against Pete, undoing his jeans and shoving them and his briefs down as best he can. He guides his dick up and cradles it in his palms, presenting it for Pete to examine over his shoulder.

"Fuck." Pete's voice is almost a growl, his breath hot against Mikey's neck. "Fuck, look at you. Locked up for me. Mine."

Mikey bites down harder, forcing himself to stay quiet even though he wants to moan. He wants to sink down to his knees, too, bury his head against Pete's thigh, surrender and submit and let Pete take care of him.

"All _mine_." Pete kisses Mikey's jaw and steps back, catching him by the hand and tugging him back toward the bedroom. "C'mon."

"Dinner's on its way," Mikey protests, pulling his underwear up with his free hand as he walks.

"Shit." Pete frowns and reverses course toward the living room. The dogs are scrambling around underfoot and Mikey still has his hand down his pants and he's pretty sure they're both going to trip and die.

"Sex after dinner," Pete declares, like he's claiming the evening for Spain. "I can't wait to get my hands on you."

**

"Sex after dinner" means Pete bending him over the back of the couch and fucking him hard, which is definitely on Mikey's list of top five favorite things to do with dicks and other body parts.

But he still feels weird afterward; actually, he feels even weirder. Pete kissed him after he fucked him, told him he was awesome and amazing, cuddled him for a few hours on the couch and then more after they went to bed. Mikey spent the evening wrapped up in his arms, safe and warm and absolutely loved. He didn't question that for a heartbeat.

But it was unsettling, feeling Pete thrusting into him and wanting it and knowing how his body should be responding, knowing how he _wanted_ to respond, but not being able to. It was weird not to come, to not even have Pete offer or try, to not have Pete touch him with intent. It felt like something had gotten left out, like there was a gap.

It's the sudden lack of reciprocity, he decides, lying in bed and staring up at the ceiling after Pete drifts off. It's like a switch got flipped and the dynamic went from a game they play to something _real_ , like Pete really is in charge and Mikey doesn't have a say.

Except he does have a say, because he agreed to wear it. Really enthusiastically. He was _into_ this, and it's not fair for him to freak out now. He's never safeworded with Pete for misgivings, only accidents. He's not going to start with this.

He just needs to get used to it, he decides, shifting onto his side and moving closer to Pete. It'll be better tomorrow.

**

The next day ends up as pretty much a split decision. On the one hand, he can't concentrate at work at _all_. It's a disaster. He tries to study when he gets home and that's even worse. He forgets to feed the dogs until they're doing their little sad-dance around the living room and gnawing on the furniture, and he realizes after he's been home for an hour that he left his work ID and building pass on his desk and will have to go begging to the security guard in the morning.

His dick is destroying his ability to function as a human being.

On the other hand, though, Pete gets home late, and sex doesn't even come up as a possibility. Just dinner and watching TV together and falling asleep in a complicated tangle of blankets and limbs and dogs. Mikey gets the best sleep he's had in ages.

It's Pete's day off, so he's still asleep when Mikey leaves for another long day of incompetence and sneaking off to the bathroom at random intervals to stare at his cock and its little plastic suit.

When he gets home, Pete's lying on the living-room couch, sweats shoved down to his knees, dick half-hard and porn blaring from his laptop. "Hey," Mikey says, stopping in the doorway to pet the dogs. "Don't let me interrupt or anything."

"Funny." Pete rubs his palm roughly down the length of his cock and hits pause on the laptop. "Been waiting for you. Get over here."

Mikey obediently crosses the room, raising an eyebrow at Pete. Pete grabs him by the wrist and tugs him down onto the couch on top of him.

"It was a long and lonely day without you, Mikey Way."

"You seem to have made it through okay."

"It was tough." Pete's hands slide up under Mikey's shirt, running over his chest and stomach and back, greedy to touch him. Mikey closes his eyes and revels in the feeling. Being close to Pete, being touched by Pete, dunks him under that same wave of relief and comfort again. Maybe his distraction and dissatisfaction all day was because he wanted to be here, like this.

"Hmm," Pete says, kissing him lightly. "No, not like this. Up. We've gotta switch."

"What?"

"You on the couch. Lying down. C'mon."

Mikey laughs and does as he's told, tangling his legs with Pete's as soon as Pete braces himself over him and smiles. "Now what, Wentz?"

"Just gonna look at your pretty face." Pete leans down and kisses Mikey slowly, one hand moving to push Mikey's t-shirt up to his armpits, baring his torso. "

"Just look?"

"Well. No." Pete smirks at him and takes his dick in hand, stroking slow and tight until he's hard again. "Duh."

Mikey rolls his eyes and squirms a little under him, testing how well Pete has him pinned and watching Pete's face. Pete's eyes are half-closed, his mouth a little bit open, his forehead slightly furrowed as he works himself. He's gorgeous, and he's going to jerk off all over Mikey, and Mikey _likes_ it when Pete does that, it's one of their stupid things they never really talk about but they both really like. It doesn't make any sense that his stomach is twisting, or his throat tightening, or that he's suddenly saying "Stop."

He says it again, louder, touching Pete's shoulder. "Stop."

Pete sits back, blinking at him, his own breath stuttering. "What's wrong?"

"I feel weird," Mikey blurts out before he has a chance to think about it or say it right. "I feel really weird."

"I'm sorry." Pete looks confused more than sorry. Confused is better than pissed, though. "Was it...something I did? I'm sorry. I thought you liked..."

"I do. You know I do. I just...I don't know. I feel weird."

"Weird how?"

"I've felt weird all week." Mikey tries to sit up and Pete eases off him, tugging his sweats up over his dick.

"This is news to me." Pete's voice is doing that thing it does when he's trying to keep himself from yelling. Mikey hates that thing a lot. "All week? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Not _bad_. Just...weird. I don't know." Mikey shrugs and wraps his arms around himself, staring down at the carpet.

Pete exhales slowly and rubs his hand over Mikey's arm. "Okay. Talk to me? Talk it out? Please. I want to understand."

Mikey makes himself take two deep breaths before he lets himself lean into Pete's touch and answer. "I can't think. I can't concentrate. I'm all...distracted. I feel better when I'm with you and weird when I'm not. Not, like...it's not some crazy thing, it's just uncomfortable, a little. I wish you were there." Pieces come together as he talks them out, as usual. This is how he thinks, sometimes. Out loud. "Like...it's like that time you had me tied up and then the maintenance guy knocked on the door, remember? And you had to go deal with him and you left me there for like half an hour by myself. I knew you were coming back and I wasn't _scared_ , I just...you were supposed to be there."

Pete nods slowly, catching Mikey's hand and lacing their fingers together. "You were in headspace and didn't want to be alone. That's what it's like?"

"Yeah. I guess." Mikey worries his lower lip between his teeth. "Like the whole week is one really long scene and I'm in it all day, at work, everything."

"Well...well, yeah, baby." Pete sounds less steady than Mikey wants from him right now. "I thought that was kind of the whole point."

"I guess I didn't really think of it that way." Mikey looks down at their hands and squeezes gently until Pete squeezes back. "It makes sense, now that I see it. Duh."

They're quiet for a minute, Pete's thumb running back and forth across the back of Mikey's hand. "There's more to it," Pete says finally. "I can tell. That hasn't settled your brain. Keep going?"

Mikey doesn't want to keep going. He wants to put his head down in Pete's lap and be quiet for a while. But this is already more fucked up than it ought to be. He needs to try.

"You're not acting like it," he says.

Pete frowns. "Not acting like what?"

"Like it's a _thing_. Like we're doing this thing that's kind of a big intense deal. You're just...you're just going about your business like you don't even care if it's me or somebody else."

Pete's hand goes still against Mikey's and his eyes go wide. "You think I don't care about you?"

"No! Not that. God. I'm saying it wrong. No." Mikey closes his eyes and thumps his head back against the couch. "Just...if the _thing_ here is me being a human sex toy, me not getting off but just getting you off, being _yours_ , I thought you'd be more...focused on that part. Playing it up. And instead you've been all casual."

Pete looks away, eyes tracking around the room slowly, fingers twitching against Mikey's as he tries to keep his temper and break this down. Mikey knows how hard he's trying. He loves him for being willing to try. "So what you're saying is that I'm not objectifying you enough?"

It's not the phrasing Mikey would've used, but as he turns it around in his head, he has to admit Pete's in the ballpark. "I...I guess not."

"You want me to, like, really perv on it. Ownership and control and you being restrained and gelded." Pete looks at him and raises his eyebrows. "You want me to call you a come bucket."

Mikey nods slowly. "Yeah. Pretty much? Except not that word, because it sounds really stupid."

"What about dick mitten?"

"Where do you even...no."

"Fucktoy?" Pete's starting to smile a little, and squeezes Mikey's hand again. "You want me to call you at work and tell you what I'm gonna do to you. How I'm gonna use you."

"Yes." Mikey nods again, emphatically this time, and turns his head for a kiss. "Exactly."

"Got it." Pete bites the tip of Mikey's nose and stands up. "We talked it out. Now we have ice cream."

"We haven't had dinner yet."

"Talking shit out means ice cream. Those are the rules. Don't tell me you want to start breaking the rules _now_ , Mikey James."

Mikey lets Pete tug him up and lead him to the kitchen. Rules are rules. And his boyfriend is awesome.

**

When Mikey gets home from work on Friday night, Pete barely lets him get his shoes off before he fucks him on the living room floor. It's the kind of hard, deep fuck that's going to leave rugburns and have Mikey walking funny for a day or two. Pete calls him a needy little slut and spins a whole really elaborate story about how he had to cage Mikey up to keep him from fucking everybody at work and half the people on the train ride home.

Basically Pete brings his A-game. Mikey appreciates it more than words can say. Not that he's saying any words other than _yes_ and _please_ mixed with inarticulate moaning.

Pete comes buried deep inside him, pulls out and smacks him on the ass, then moves to take care of the condom. "Turn over."

Mikey groans and shakes his head, burying his face against the carpet despite the way dog hair is going up his nose. He is never moving again. The floor is awesome just like this.

"Turn the fuck over." Mikey ignores him again, and Pete grabs him by the shoulder and hip and flips him. "Brat."

"Go _away_ ," Mikey says, swatting at him, then chokes on his next breath as Pete drops to his knees between Mikey's legs and holds up the tiny padlock key.

"Now he starts to pay attention." Pete smirks and opens the padlock, guiding the two pieces of the cage off carefully and setting them aside. "Now he wants to play nice."

"Why are you talking like that, there is nobody else--" Mikey chokes again as Pete presses a hot kiss to the base of his cock. "Pete."

"Yeah." Pete grins against him, then licks his lips and takes Mikey in his mouth. He flicks his tongue against the underside and then starts sucking, hot and wet and too much right away, sensory overload. He is the _meanest_ fucking dom in the entire world and Mikey's dick has been waiting for attention all week and getting hard this fast may actually kill him, right here on the living-room floor, and Pete's going to be sorry when he has to explain that to the cops, isn't he?

Mikey's higher thought processes and ability to construct elaborate fantasies give out pretty quickly around then.

**

"So next time," Pete mumbles, nuzzling at Mikey's neck, "I know I need to make it a whole thing right from day one."

"Mm." Mikey nods, wrapping his arms loosely around Pete, enjoying the feeling of Pete on top of him like a warm, bony blanket. "Yeah."

"Got it. I'll write that down, even."

"But we should probably wait a while before we do it again. That's a special occasion kind of game."

"Yeah." Pete kisses his throat. "Definitely."

Mikey closes his eyes and shivers. "Also, it was kind of a failure in one big way."

"Oh?"

"Well, it definitely took my mind off the test, but so much that I didn't do _any_ studying, and now I'm a week behind."

Pete goes still for a minute, then laughs, burying the sound against Mikey's shoulder. "Shit. I guess I didn't think that through."

"So I'll miss you next week, when I'm living at the library playing catch-up and you're single parenting the dogs."

"You _suck_."

"You love me."

Pete huffs and kisses him for real. "Obviously, fucktoy. Don't even joke about that."


End file.
